It’s the 1940’s and the Chandlers have turned their large home in Blackberry Springs, Alabama into a boardinghouse. As the rooms fill with unique people harboring deep needs, the story of a local legend begins to unfold. When hard times catch up with Dolly and Si Chandler, will a story from long ago help them recover? And will the broken boarders discover where hurt and healing collide?

Side note: this cover is front porch goals.

My thoughts:

Any avid reader will tell you that on a rare occasion, a story can be written in such a way it feels like coming home to people you’ve never met and a place you’ve never known.

I wasn’t expecting it, but this book is that kind of story.

Si and Dolly are an older couple trying to make ends meet, so they rent out rooms in their large home. As a result, readers are introduced to a lovely cast of characters that soon feel like family. Luesse throws in a local legend, some intrigue, and a touch of romance just for the fun of it–and what fun it is!

Though I loved all of the characters and their stories, I find that Reed is the one sticking with me the most. An injured war vet, he finds it difficult to readjust to civilian life after everything he has seen in the Second World War. I haven’t read many characters attempting to deal with PTSD, but I believe Luesse did an excellent job at trying to convey what that could potentially look like for soldiers who are just trying to find the version of themselves that can exist after such an experience.

There are a few strange instances throughout the novel that may not be widely accepted, but overall this book feels like being wrapped in a warm hug. If you’re looking for a cozy, sentimental read that settles slow and stays awhile, Almost Home hits the spot. It releases on March 5th.

{A humbly grateful shout out to Revell and Netgalley for early access to this book in exchange for an honest review.}

It is no secret that I’ve been hurt by church. You’ve probably experienced your own church hurt as well. A mature Christian eventually goes on with life, I suppose.

I did not.

I healed in some ways and tried to heal in others, but I would never let God get to the root of the problem. He would begin to work close to the most painful part and I would turn from His healing hand. “Not yet, God. I’m not ready for that yet.”

He was so patient with me. Years passed, and I would smile and hug and fight the tender affection threatening to outgrow my chest. I didn’t want to love anyone. Not truly. I feared making a connection that could be broken–a connection that could break me.

So I held people at arm’s length. I became a master at redirecting the conversation whenever someone tried to reach an unavailable part of my heart. And I refused to fall in love with church again.

*****

I returned to the place that broke me. I had been there before, but my focus was always centered on breathing and getting out unscathed. This time, I had a different focus: restoration.

I knew, with a deep certainty, that God would finally reach into my heart and do the painful work if I would ask Him. If I would let Him. His heart for me was always abundant life, was always healing.

But He knew, far better than I, that an abundant life sometimes requires pain. Healing sometimes requires pain.

So on that land, I knelt and wept as I asked God to restore my faith. I asked Him to be my courage as He worked in me and to restore everything the enemy had stolen there, including my courage to love people deeply.

It hasn’t been perfect and I am certainly a work in progress, but I resolve daily to hand my heart over to Christ. “I’m all in,” I whisper. And for the first time in such a long time, I mean it.

I used to believe that a God who truly knew me, truly loved me, wouldn’t let me feel pain. Each stab of heartache felt like rejection, like God didn’t care enough to protect me.

But I’m beginning to see that pain is part of the process. Not because He finds pleasure in watching me break over and over again, but because each crack of my heart cultivates a richer foundation for our relationship. And God needs good soil to plant anything worthwhile or lasting in me.

He didn’t stop the ache in my chest, but He held me while my chest ached. He didn’t prevent the situations that made me cry, but He wiped my tears. And He didn’t snap His fingers and fix my heart, but He pursued my broken heart with a tender love that has made Him more real to me than anything else.

What are you keeping from Him in fear that healing will hurt? What do you need to ask Him to restore in your life?

Thea Reed is a woman without a past. The search for her true identity leads the postmortem photographer to Pleasant Valley, Wisconsin at the turn of the century. Thea soon finds herself tangled in the town’s strange secrets including family splits, a mental asylum, and the legend of Misty Wayfair. With so many secrets surrounding her, can she possibly find the key to her past?

A century later, Heidi Lane arrives in Pleasant Valley at the request of her declining mother. Upon her arrival, Heidi uncovers more questions than answers about her own identity and what Pleasant Valley could possibly mean to her. When Heidi encounters a mysterious woman in the woods, she’s convinced that she has seen Misty Wayfair. The legend awakens and Heidi is forced to finally find her connection to thistown.

My thoughts:

Y’all, I have not read writing this good in AGES. I’ve read excellent books. I’ve read fiction that has stuck with me like glitter from a preteen beauty pageant. I have never, in all my (limited-but-still-impressive) years, read books like Jaime Jo Wright’s books. They are nothing you expect and all of the right things all at the same time.

I’m a brand-spanking-new member of the Jaime Jo Wright fan club, but I am here with bells on and I am here to stay.

If the parallel story lines have you feeling a little iffy, know that the alternating perspectives are one of Wright’s most effective storytelling tools. It allows for a slow, suspenseful revelation of information that ultimately displays Wright’s creativity and brilliance. As a reader, I’m satisfied. As a writer, I’m left in awe. Obviously this woman is made of literary magic.

And don’t even get me started on the characters. There’s such a depth to Heidi and Thea that you actually ache for them to find what they’re looking for. I instantly fell in love with Rhett, but didn’t discover why until about halfway through the book. He isn’t a talker, but he certainly makes it count when he does speak. I also love Simeon for a million different reasons that I can’t even go into right now because we would be here all day.

Overall, if you’re into eerie suspense, smart plots, and lovable characters, check out Jaime Jo Wright’s new book “The Curse of Misty Wayfair”. It officially releases on January 22nd, so preorder your copy today! This is one you won’t want to miss.

{As always, a grateful shout out to Bethany House and Netgalley for allowing me to read this beauty in exchange for an honest review.}

I gather the year in my hands, my head hanging in shame. This was supposed to be my year of surrender. Hadn’t the Father asked that of me? I can’t see surrender in the messy pile before me. He will be so disappointed.

I bring the year before Him, my heart pounding in my chest. He’ll see. He’ll know that I’ve failed Him. I can’t take His disappointment, so I stare at my shoes. It comes as no shock that they are as unimpressive as the mess I’ve brought God. Will I ever be the right things?

“Courtney.” His voice is warm and kind and loving. I can’t bare to think about how it will change once He knows I’ve let Him down. My anxious heart breaks at the thought.

Through sniffles and tears, I hurriedly explain, “God, I know You asked me to surrender. But You won’t find surrender here and I’m so sorry. I meant to. I really did. Please,” my voice breaks on a sob. “Please know that I meant to do this for You–“

“Courtney,” He interrupts, saying my name again with such love that I’m afraid He hasn’t listened. “You’ve surrendered so much to Me this year. It’s all right here.”

His hands gently hold my year, as if this messy pile is precious to Him, and I don’t understand. My face contorts in confusion as I stutter,” B-but God, I let anxiety paralyze me this summer.”

He nods and smiles. “Yes. And then you learned to come to Me and let Me have your anxiety each time you felt trapped.”

I’m shaking my head. This can’t be right. “But it’s not gone. I still get so scared, God.”

My mind swims. Could it be? “No,” I mutter, still too ashamed to accept His mercy now. “What about my people-pleasing heart? What about when I’ve wanted to tell my side? What about–“

“What about when losses devastated you and you came to Me instead of running from Me? What about when decisions needed to be made and you decided to seek Me first? What about when you trusted your heart to Me instead of giving it to the first available man? All surrender.”

“Surrender looks like giving Me everything, even when it hurts and even when it is messy. You didn’t fail Me, child. You chose Me no matter the circumstances. You were broken and scared and you gave it all to Me. That’s what this year was about: learning to give it all to Me.”

The tears fall freely again and I can’t help but ask Him to verify. “So You still love me?

His arms wrap around me and I close my eyes against His embrace. “You will learn surrender everyday and I will love you everyday, even the days you get it wrong.”

After a moment, the crying ceases and I reluctantly pull away. Wiping stray tears from my chin, I quietly ask, “So what now, God?”

“Now, My girl?” He takes my hand in His and turns me toward tomorrow. “Now it is time for obedience.”

Gwen Harkness loves the young boy and girl that have seemingly fallen into her care, but Cameron Scott loves them, too. They are, after all, his daughter and nephew. He has more right to them than some stranger, no matter how attached the children may be. But Cameron is an army officer, used to barking orders and demanding respect. Though that technique worked on the battlefield, it doesn’t translate well to the young children he is trying to impress. How can he make them comfortable enough to come home to him? And how can he rip them from the nurturing heart of Gwen?

When the entire crew gets attacked, by weather and by humans, Cam and Gwen are forced to make peace despite their different desires for the children. In the midst of such chaos, the two find that they truly can help one another. In fact, maybe they are exactly what each other needs.

My thoughts:

First of all, can we discuss this cover?! I know you’re not supposed to judge a book by it’s cover, but I do and I did and I will continue to do so (my bad). The lighting and the scenery of this one is absolutely gorgeous.

This was my first Mary Connealy novel, but it definitely won’t be my last. Though her voice is slightly different from my usual favorites, I’ve discovered that Connealy brings so much to the table. Y’all know that I’m a sucker for heart AND humor, and Connealy delivers in this newest offering. I was invested in each of the characters by the end of the book, even the stubborn and bless-his-heart clueless Cameron.

If you’re looking for a quick and fun read, this book is exactly what you need. Even though it is the second in the High Sierra Sweethearts series, it can be read and understood without the context of the first novel. However, I will say that the history of certain characters and the reasoning behind some of their choices may have made more sense had I been acquainted with the first book.

Overall, I really enjoyed it! The chemistry between the main characters was a slow build into a sweet situation, and though I don’t always appreciate that approach, it worked for this one. It felt very true to Cam and Gwen’s personalities. The Reluctant Warrior is a beauty and it releases TODAY, so don’t take my word for it. Go get your own copy and read for yourself!

{A special shout out to Bethany House Publishers and Netgalley for allowing this complete book nerd to read brand spankin’ new words in exchange for an honest review.}

A few years ago, I struggled with believing that God was listening. It seemed like I was begging for answers, begging for movement, and all I was receiving was nothing. He had given me this grand direction to stand still and then He had left me in silence to seemingly fend for myself.

I was angry and frantic, wondering if this God that I had put the whole of my future into had turned out to be like nearly every other person in my life during that season: temporary. Impermanent. Incapable of staying. I fought hard to keep my head above water, but the fear even filtered into my dreams.

One night I had a dream that rattled me to the core. In my dream, a man grew angry with me and tried to physically hurt me. I began praying with everything I could muster. At first, he fell to his knees and began clawing at my clothing as if my prayers were hurting him. After a few moments, it became evident that nothing was going to change.

My heart broke. I sobbed and the man laughed as we realized the same thing–I had been abandoned. God wasn’t going to show up.

The man in my dream looked me in the eyes and stopped laughing, but the grin creasing his face never wavered. He said, “He doesn’t hear you when you’re sleeping and He doesn’t hear you when you’re awake.”

It still sends chills down my spine to think about how obvious and direct those words were. I woke up and realized that if the enemy was trying to make his point even while I was asleep, he meant business. I needed to mean business, too.

I began listing answered prayers. From the biggest to the smallest, I wrote them all down with relative dates beside them. I looked up scriptures referring to God answering prayer or hearing His people. Isaiah 65:24 was written across my mirror: “And it shall come to pass, that before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear.” To this day, Jeremiah 33:3 is written on an index card taped to my prayer wall: “Call unto me, and I will answer thee, and shew thee great and mighty things, which thou knowest not.”

Having that visual of how many prayers God was answering changed my life. I couldn’t believe He was ignoring me anymore. I could no longer believe that He had left me to fend for myself. I didn’t understand why He was being silent in direction, but I knew without a doubt that He was active in my life. I had papers upon papers full of answers, full of proof that He was showing up. He was listening.

Because listing answered prayers has been so instrumental in my faith journey, I want to encourage someone else to start. For the next thirty-one days, I will be posting an answered prayer daily on my social media using the hashtag #31AnsweredPrayers. Follow along. Count your own answered prayers and join me in sharing them using the hashtag.

If you just need reassurance that He is still here, count with us. If you’re fighting what feels like the fight of your life and you need evidence that He hasn’t left you, count with us. No answered prayer is too big or too small.

It is the most blessed assurance I have that God, in fact, hears me when I’m sleeping and when I’m awake. He’s still here. He’s still listening, friends. See for yourself.

Somebody somewhere once gave the advice to write from the middle–skip the intro and get to the guts of the thing. If that’s the case, let me say this: I am heartbroken.

My newsfeed is filling up with obituaries and GoFundMe pages. My mind is filling up with names and faces of people I’ve never met, but wish I knew. In my own life, there are individuals who are struggling to hold on even though they love deeply and know how dearly loved they are in return.

If you’re struggling and considering taking your own life, please stay. I know, if you’ve made that decision, very little will change your mind. I know the voices are loud and persuasive. I know there doesn’t seem to be another answer.

You aren’t a burden. You aren’t too much. There are so many sunsets that are meant to be seen by your gorgeous eyes and I pray, from the depth of my soul, that you choose not to miss them.

You are so much more than this moment, than this season. Every beat of your heart is precious. Every breath from your chest is extraordinary. Please stay.

No one can draw, read, write, sing, build, laugh, smile, cook, or love like you can. Please stay.

You cannot be replaced. It isn’t possible. You’re the only you we are ever going to get; losing you will shift the entire universe for your people. Please stay.

You are loved by a God who wants, so desperately, to know you. Please, please, please stay.

Hold on. Reach out. Stay.

***If you are struggling and think/know that you need help, reach out to a local clinic or call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255. If phone calls aren’t your thing (I feel you, bud), chat with a crisis counselor at Lifeline Chat.***

***EDIT: I’ve also been informed that you can reach a counselor at Crisis Text Line by texting “START” to 741741. If you know someone who doesn’t like the phone or have access to the internet, please let them know about this option.***

Logan Fowler is looking for justice. He left Pecan Gap, Texas as a grieving boy, but he returns as a man determined to right the wrongs against his family. The only problem? Seeking justice is much easier than finding it, especially when a beautiful woman stands in the way.

As an orphan, Evangeline Hamilton knows a thing or two about loss and loneliness. Her peculiar eyes–one brown, one blue–often make her the center of unwanted attention. Aside from a few brave townspeople, she is only close to her brothers Zach and Seth. So when Logan arrives in town and offers friendship rather than fear, Evangeline is pleasantly surprised. But how can friendship, and possibly more, exist between them when Logan is keeping so many secrets?

My thoughts:

I have a Karen Witemeyer addiction and I don’t care who knows it.

As a writer, I commend anyone who can string thousands of words together coherently. Whether I enjoy the final product or not, I have nothing but respect for authors with new releases. It takes so much heart and hard work to tell the stories in their heads.

My respect for Witemeyer exponentially grows from that point, however, because of her consistent ability to create quality works of fiction.

As a reader, dialogue is an aspect that can make or break a reading experience for me. I cannot tell you how many books I have put down simply because the dialogue felt awkward and unrealistic. It’s easy, especially in more tender scenes, for interactions between characters to become cheesy and uncomfortable for the reader. Witemeyer’s dialogue never feels out of place and she continues that trend in her newest release.

Authentic interactions create space for even more believable characters. Though they are quirky and endearing, Logan and the entire Hamilton clan, as well as some surprising additions, are just as flawed and human as the rest of us. Exposing their humanity against the backdrop of a well-written plot seems to be one of Witemeyer’s many creative gifts.

If you enjoy historical romance with a touch of humor and a whole lot of heart, be sure to check out Karen Witemeyer’s newest release. More Than Meets the Eye is an absolute showstopper with the offerings of every great inspirational romance: an honorable hero, a kind heroine, and a faithful God to see them through every nail-biting moment of suspense.

{A special shout out to Bethany House Publishers for allowing this complete book nerd to get her hands on a new release from Karen Witemeyer in exchange for this honest gush session. AHEM. I mean, review.}

She sits alone as people crowd in around her. She doesn’t look everywhere and smile nervously. In fact, she rarely smiles at all. She simply stares straight ahead, eating her popcorn like the rest of the world could burn around her and she wouldn’t bother to move for it.

I recognize the look. Fear makes me wear it often when I am alone in situations that make me feel uncomfortable. I’m a friendly person. I’ll chat it up with anyone who doesn’t give me weird vibes (and even then I usually talk more than I probably should). But when I am alone, surrounded by people who know each other but don’t know me, I do everything I can to fade into the background. I know that feeling, so I recognize the look.

I bet she doesn’t know how brave she is, sitting alone in a crowded auditorium. I bet she doesn’t realize that it was courageous for her to buy a ticket and walk through the door knowing that nobody familiar would be waiting for her. I bet she doesn’t see bravery when she looks in the mirror, but I see it now as I catch her eye across the room. I politely smile and for a brief, brave moment, she smiles back.
*****
Another woman stands in front of me at intermission as we wait in line for the restroom. She’s incredibly nice and we have giggled at the awkwardness of holding the bathroom door open for a seemingly endless line of people. We approach the mirrors on the right and I watch as she suddenly shuts down.

I notice her gaze ricocheting between the floor and the mirror. She pulls and tugs on her dress until she finally faces forward with a smile, intentionally avoiding the chunk of glass on the wall trying to tell her she doesn’t measure up.

I bet she doesn’t know how beautiful she is, how the kindness of her heart will make her more appealing than the clothing ever will. I bet she doesn’t realize she is absolutely adored by a Heavenly Father who took the time to lovingly create every nook and cranny of the body she is trying to hide from. I bet she doesn’t see her beauty when she looks in the mirror, but I see it now as she patiently smiles at every single person she passes. Behind her, I silently pray that God would let her know it to the tips of her soul–she is loved and cherished and so very precious to Him.
*****
I’m sitting in bed, thinking about the different people I encountered that night. Thinking about how easy it is to see qualities of worth in others, but so difficult to see them in ourselves.

I’ve just spent a summer wrestling with anxiety. It was crippling and exhausting. I didn’t see bravery when I looked in the mirror. I didn’t see beauty. I didn’t see freedom or redemption. All I saw in my reflection was a lost young woman who needed to figure out everything quickly. I craved control while lacking the motivation to do anything with it. I needed purpose, but struggled to ask for it. I was a hot hallelujah of a mess, y’all.

Honestly, I still am.

I’m certainly less anxious; I’ve just realized that there’s a whole lot that is broken in this heart, in this soul. But I’m trusting that God will fix me or He’ll shine through the broken places and use the pieces for a beautiful purpose.

Maybe you can’t see how brave you are. Maybe you don’t see beauty in the mirror. Maybe you’re tracing over the scars of old wounds and you have yet to discover the mark of His healing hand. You don’t see freedom. You don’t feel redeemed.

Ask God to show you. Ask Him to open your eyes. I know it sounds so incredibly simple, but most of these things are.

Show up.

Throw yourself into His Word.

Ask Him.

On my own, I could see nothing. With God, I see traces of courage and beauty. I see flecks of freedom. I see threads of redemption weaving in and out of my story. He is the ink and the pen and the words. He is the beginning and the end and every good thing in between.

I am a mess, but I am loved by the Messiah. May my story, and my life, reflect that truth above all.

Seven years ago, a heartbroken teen began stringing words together until her heart ached a little less. She posted her words online until, eventually, she discovered a whole world of people who offered their heart ramblings online, too.

She was a goner from that moment on.

That heartbroken teen was me. And I’m still hanging around on the internet, throwing words together and trying to make sense of this crazy faith I have. The scenery is different, but the heart is the same.

If you are looking for theological discussions with big words and even bigger answers, you will have to look elsewhere.

If you love Jesus, but you still have questions, you’re among friends here. We don’t have it all figured out. In fact, we are just pilgrims passing through, wrestling our way past the hot messes we are to get to our Heavenly Father.

We love Jesus. And we love people. And sometimes we only love people because we love Jesus, and loving people is kind of important to Him.

We are real. We are honest. And, occasionally, we are hilarious.

If that’s alright with you, you might be our kind of people.

And if you’re our kind of people? Well, welcome home.

Take a Look Around:

Chances are good that you already know a little bit about me, but just in case you don’t, head on over to the Meet Courtney page. Once there, you’ll find a little more information about my heart for this space.

If you’re looking for some other blogs to check out, make sure to head over to a list of my favorite blogs. It certainly isn’t an exhaustive list; I have no doubt that it will change and grow over time. But it’s a good start, so go browse.

I am a complete and total book nerd, so I obviously had to have a favorite books section. Check it out if you’re into that sort of thing. (Spoiler: I am definitely into that sort of thing.)

Once you get to know me, you’ll discover that there are numerous ministries and organizations that mean a great deal to me. Head on over to the list of my favorite organizations and learn about a few of them. Once again, I’ll say that this list certainly isn’t exhaustive and is bound to expand over time.

Finally, you’ll find the privacy policy of this new space here. I am no lawyer and I probably did it all wrong, but I’m counting on grace. Just know that I want us to be friends and though I trust God to protect this place, I want to do my part to ensure that we have the best possible experience here.

That’s it, folks! I am so excited to be here and I sincerely hope that you are, too.

Courtney LaShea.

Hey there! I’m Courtney.

I’m so glad you’ve found this little corner of the internet. Around here, we’re all about honesty with a dash of hope. We aim for our faith to be as strong as our coffee (or our tea, for those of us with a rebellious streak). We believe in the power of encouragement and sharing our stories. Please feel free to stick around and join us!